Pragma
by Pineapple Mist
Summary: He was a king who scoffed upon the mundane. She only took an interest in mysteries. After some time, they found themselves in love. Him with a prodigy 9 years his junior; her with a God that constantly challenged an 8 year old's IQ of 200. AtobexOC
1. Ab initio

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis series. All rights belong to the original author and any organizations associated with the manga and anime. There will be subtle references to the popular sitcom _The Big Bang Theory_ because Sheldon is god-worthy. Nabiki is a character born from my imagination so please let her stay as such. Rated M for fear of emotional tension/content that may be unsuitable for younger reader later on in the writing. Constructive criticism is welcome. However, if you do not like fanfictions that feature OCs then please don't flame me. Last but not least, enjoy.

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

A pair of golden orbs sliced through the heavy silence that resonated with emptiness. Hallways, devoid of mortal presence, collapsed within itself an electric charge of fear.

"Buchou…" the two boys were devastated. They watched, painfully, as his confident form slowly melted from their sight. There was going to be no second chance. No redemption. No regrets. His voice gave their hearts a fierce squeeze, suffocating all hopes they had taped together piece by piece. But, he was not unkind. Echizen buchou. A mysterious charisma surrounded him. The kind that can catch wind to your soul before you stepped on court. Incredibly fearless, his confidence also knew no limit. It must be his American blood.

"In his own words: mada mada dane. Is that right, Ryuuzaki-sensei?"

She was caught. Escaping his insight was no easy feat. "I take it that you've been here for quite a while."

When her former student did not reply, Sumire continued. "When to comes to leadership, he's got quite a bit to work on. Guess it's no surprise then. That his approach is actually quite similar to yours and Kaido's, Tezuka."

He offered a nod of acknowledgement. The former bespectacled caption of Seishun Gakuen's tennis team was a man of few words.

She accepted that as a response with amazing grace. "I suppose you're here to check on the team?" The coach knew that she actually did not need to ask.

"Ah." Tezuka replied, making direct eye contact. "The selections at high school are very competitive. They should be prepared."

"As expected." The coach offered a smirk of merit. That was just the kind of thing so typical of Tezuka. In fact, the words had his name written all over them. "But coincidentally just in time. Ryoma's just put in the new set of regulars this morning. They are good players, but he says they're missing something. Hopefully you'll know what the boy's talking about. Just like his dad. Thinks of the oddest sense."

He was not surprised. Tezuka handpicked this protégé himself. They connected on a level that eluded all words and language. A realm of connaissance. Not quite intuition.

The pair did not engage in conversation as they slowly made their way to Ryuuzaki-sensei's office. These moments were reminiscent of the days that Seigaku's youngest regular was in fact a first year student with golden eyes. Both the coach and the captain then had dedicated most of their waking moments to the team, and to tennis. This peace was, unfortunately, brutally decimated by a blood curdling scream with deep echoes of pain. There was certainly no question. Whoever it was, was suffering from something horrible.

They shot off like two tennis balls from Momoshiro's well-known Jack Knife. Past empty classrooms that would have been otherwise filled with curious students. There was absolutely no time to mind their step. How utterly selfish it would have been anyway.

"…" She stared at him— the figure who had collapsed to the ground, writhing like a leech that's been left to die on a mound of salt. His companion was rooted to the ground beside the victim with horror. Dilated pupils and wide eyes included. It had not occurred to her that there would be students bouncing around the deserted school building at this hour in the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hardly appropriate behaviour.

Her hand had remained relatively undamaged, save for a few spots that were quickly beginning to turn a disturbing red against the delightful cream of the rest. "Ara…" she said in a very low voice, barely above a whisper. Her attention was captivated by the corrosive acid that now ate away at the proteins that made up the largest organ of the human body. Something skidded to a stop behind her. She felt the invisible breeze cruise past her back, then dispersing around her like a flower in full bloom. Her attention only snapped back to the present universe when one of the two boys managed to choke out Ryuuzaki-sensei's name. The usually good-natured coach was having a hard time holding back shock. A stoic ex-captain accompanied her, who was also slightly bewildered by the situation himself.

"Nabiki. You're bleeding." He pointed out.

Her childish face was blank. "Ah." She still held onto the beaker. A deafening silence engulfed the small group of individuals.

She reached into the pocket of her lab coat for a vile that she knew would be needed. There were several, luckily all in different sizes. Her small fingers searched nimbly for the right glass container before finally retrieving it from the darkness. "Mitsu-senpai." She held it up to him.

_10.0 M _NaOH

"It's acid. Sulphuric acid." She explained, more for the suffering first year's sake than for Tezuka's. "I was making esters."

He understood. Neutralization: a basic chemical principle capable of a variety of wonders. Hopefully this would not cause any further damage that required hospitalization.

Sumire watched in wonder as the older and more responsible student proceeded to dump the contents of Nabiki's test tube on the boy's wound. He howled with pain. Luckily the scream only lasted for relatively brief moment. It was time for her to step in and assume command of the situation before it got any worse.

"Alright, that's enou-"

"Echizen-senpai! Buchou wants to-" words died on the messenger's mouth as he evaluated the situation before his eyes. Unable to form a proper judgement, he allowed a look of complete puzzlement to surface on his face.

The coach almost sighed. Did everyone at this school have a knack for interrupting other people in the middle of a sentence?

"As I was saying," Sumire asserted herself, "that's enough of fooling around with dangerous chemicals. Let's get you to the nurse's office." She looked pointedly at the unlucky first year student again, then at Nabiki. "Get your hand treated. We'll clear up what happened after you've both been taken care of."

Off they marched to cause a disturbance at the health clinic.

Nabiki knew that expression on Mitsu-senpai's face. He wanted the story now. She purposefully avoided his eyes. The accident was not her responsibility.

Tezuka followed her into the laboratory. She was washing her hands at the sink, wincing at an unexpected sting from the water. "You did not think of wearing gloves." He commented.

"The first year students from aniki's club did not think of walking near the laboratories." She replied, descending carefully from the stepping stool. "I understand that I'm short, but I am most certainly not invisible." Golden eyes flashed with momentary annoyance. "What an inconvenience."

"Given your age, it is only right that you are smaller than the rest of the school." Tezuka replied with blunt honesty.

"But that does not warrant me invisibility."

He turned away from her, refusing to argue. Sometimes he forgot— despite her astonishing intellectual abilities, Nabiki was only eight years old.

"Echizen-senpai…?" the same messenger poked his head around the door. "Buchou…still needs to…er…see you. Now." He added as an afterthought. It was only reasonable to conclude that he had been standing outside awkwardly for quite some time.


	2. A bene placito

A brightly lit room felt stuffy with unusually high levels of tension. Just like Christmas Eve, there was not a sound. However, the mood of this particular group of people was far from festive. It was, in fact, the complete opposite. Frustrated and enraged, some of Hyotei Academy's best and brightest trembled visibly in their chairs. The proud school, which had claimed the prestigious title of champion in the Rutherford Contest for Advanced Theoretical Physics for the past five years, was at a loss of words.

"An absolute disgrace!" Mitsuhiro Hiroshi, senior director of the science department, slammed the sheets of paper onto the table in front of him with more than enough force. "Not one of you placed in the top ten this year!" His glare was ferocious. "I've repeated time and time again before the contest that no matter what, you must give it your best effort!" He reached for the results, and shook the piece of paper so hard in the air that it rattled— threatening to fall apart. "Is this all you've got? Hyotei is going to be the laughing stock of Tokyo!"

For a man of such elegant stature, he was exceptionally good at ripping the students' self-esteem into pathetic little pieces mercilessly. Each word he spat out of his mouth was a razor, one that had the ability to carve and shape whatever medium was desired. He would have continued, it seemed, for an infinitely long period of time, if not startled by an unexpected bang.

"So the bunch of losers have gathered here to atone for their sins, _ahn_?"

Atobe Keigo, the King of Hyotei Academy, would not do without a dramatic entrance. Famous for having an undefeatable ego, the England born Japanese treated the occupants of this exact room to a smirk of triumph. Handsome, talented, wealthy, and influential— Atobe was the perfect creation that came in a packaging of an intoxicating charisma with the ability to attracted men and women alike. He knows this, and he is most certainly not shy about flaunting it.

The diva crossed his arms over his chest, and savoured the deadly silence. His insight did not allow the rigidity of the crowd to escape the king's knowledge. They were furious. Furious that their dignity had just taken a major blow to the head.

"Kabaji. Give that folder to Mitsuhiro-sensei."

"Usu."

Before the other male could reply, Atobe continued. "Ore-sama took the liberty of persuading the association to release the top contender's test paper. Several other organizations are interested in it as well. Ore-sama believes that it could give these washed up physicists some motivation. Show them how far they still have to go."

"Atobe-"

"Ore-sama knows that you are grateful for his charity. Nothing more needs to be said. Kabaji, we're leaving."

"Usu."

"Outdone by an eight year old." Atobe laughed to himself. "How pitiful." He had no sympathy for the wretched souls that were on the other side of the door. They had not prepared themselves, and could only watch helplessly as their opponents scored point after point against their game. If they were in the tennis club, he would have made them suffer a horrible punishment before dismissing them permanently. He thought about it some more. Actually, they don't even deserve to be given a place on the team.

Now, one of the many things that Atobe held in high regard of himself was that he was not surprised easily. Child geniuses come up on the news relatively frequently, usually associated with some sort of topic that he could care less about. This case, however, was rather peculiar. Regardless of the female stereotype commonly associated with the mathematics and physics department, something else about the winner of this year's competition caught his attention. She had the same obnoxious eyes that had challenged and mocked him at the Kantou Tournament two years ago. There was no doubt about it: another brat sired by the Samurai Nanjiro. But…why wasn't she interested in tennis?

"Kabaji, remind ore-sama that we'll need to a take a detour one of these days." the youth commanded.

"Usu."

-080-

"Tadaima."

It was well past six o'clock in the evening when two shadowed figures leisurely made their way back to the Echizen residence.

"Ryoma-kun, Nabiki-chan, you're home." Nanako, who happened to be passing by after her quick trip to the laundry room, smiled. "Oba-san just started making dinner. I hope you're not too hungry. There are some snacks in the living room though."

"Ah."

"Arigatou onee-chan."

The sun had yet to lower itself from its throne in the sky. Ryoma turned his bookbag upside down and allowed the contents to spill across the tatami mats. He wasn't too interested in the homework, expect for English— which he could, no doubt, finish very quickly. Despite his respectful title as the tennis team's captain, his height saw a relatively minor growth spurt during the two summers before his final year at Seishun Gakuen Middle School. However, he was beautiful. Black hair with natural dark green tints and a pair of seductive amber eyes added to his mysterious presence. Moreover, his fanclub had, according to Nabiki and Inui's careful calculations, increased exponentially in size. It appeared that most of the female population of the school were unable to resist the "bad boy" type, so to speak.

Nabiki, on the other hand, had left her bag untouched. She was drawing a sketch of a piece of machinery with absolute attention. Ryoma, who was now a little curious as to what stunt the baby genius had in mind, looked over at the piece of tissue paper she was working with. It looked awfully like a nuclear accelerator. He knew his subjects well enough to get by, but dedicated most of his energy to tennis. It was no longer a purposeless game he played because of his father. He had found _his_ tennis. _His _reason in the sport.

"Is there something wrong with my drawing aniki?" Nabiki was staring at him. "Perhaps the diameter should be increased to allow the particles to increase in velocity for a sufficient period of time."

So it was an accelerator.

"Bitsune." He finally replied.

She went back to her work, focused intently on the masterpiece. This was theoretical work, but with certain adjustments, perhaps she would be able to find a connection with experimental physics— an area of knowledge that she had always been cautious about.

"Did you win the contest?"

There was a short period of silence as Nabiki completed another detail on her diagram.

"Ah. Sensei was proud to announce the results."

Ryoma sandwiched his pen in his workbook. Most things outside of the tennis realm slid past him like water on a duck's back, but his younger sibling's IQ of 200 most certainly did not. She was eight years old, and already in her last year of middle school. Her obsession with particle and nuclear physics in particular, drew attention from the family. Everyone played tennis to a certain degree in the Echizen household. It was fair to say that Nabiki was no expection. Their father saw to that personally, even though she had clearly indicated at the age of five that she had no passion for the sport. After she had presented them with a written paper on the reasons why, it took three tests from the largest hospital in Tokyo district to convince their parents that their youngest child did not have any mental deficits.

"Aniki, how did it feel when you won the Nationals?"

He thought about it for a moment. The thrill that he felt when he stepped onto the tennis court against Yukimura Seiichi, the Child of God, could not be put into words. He felt powerful, free, and at home. All physical boundaries were broken down as adrenaline soared in his veins. There was only a continuum of him and his opponent's exchange, from which he eventually distinguished himself as winner.

"Inhuman." He said in the end. "An overwhelming sense of freedom and meaning."

Nabiki blinked owlishly. "I guess that's how I feel now…When I started to put those equations onto the page, I couldn't stop myself." She played with the pen in her hand for a few seconds before looking up again. "With that pen and those numbers…I knew that I could unlock the world's secrets."

"Nabiki-chan?" Nanako entered the living room with some crumpled up pages in her hands. She looked rather guilty. "I thought that I had put these away safely…but Oji-san must have found them somehow."

"What did oyaji do this time?" Ryoma cut her off just as she was about to begin the next sentence. His father's childish attitude could turn anyone off.

"He was," Nanako hesitated for a few beats before admitting the truth, "folding paper airplanes."

"Nanako! Could you get the cabbage out of the fridge for me? I'm afraid that my hands are rather occupied." Rinko called from the kitchen.

"Y-yes oba-san!" The older female turned to her baby cousin. "I'm really sorry about this Nabiki-chan. I promise to make it up to you." She guaranteed before hurrying to the kitchen. "I'm coming oba-san!"

The papers groaned under her small hands as she stretched them out again. Some of the writing was illegible, smothered out by brown stains that looked suspiciously like tea. Her small frame fought to suppress a sigh and any other murderous thoughts. Two weeks of careful research and calculations…tarnished by one instance of careless.

A grape bounced off the top of her head. Nabiki glowered at the culprit. Her nerves had already undergone a dangerous stretch, and her older brother's cocky smile was unquestionably not an asset to their recovery.


	3. A fortiori

The long-awaited bell finally signaled the beginning to lunch. As she watched the mountains of students who rushed downstairs to stand first in line, Nabiki made sure to stay outside the disaster area. The classroom was mostly empty now, but somehow, it was still very loud. Where on Earth did those vocal chords come from?

"Naki!" A pair of arms pulled her into a giant bear hug, enveloping her completely. The young girl's first reaction was panic, but that immediately went away as she realized that her "attacker" was none other than Osakada Tomoka.

"Tomo-chan!" A flustered Sakuno came up behind them, shaking her head. "You'll suffocate her."

Ignoring her friend's comment about having done any bodily harm to the small Echizen, Tomoka tightened her grip. "I'm so proud of you! Congratulations on winning the RuCon!"

"Tomo-chan!" Sakuno asserted herself a little more. "You have to get off of her now!"

"Arigatou." Nabiki replied when she finally managed to breathe again. The self-proclaimed president of the Echizen Ryoma fanclub had an alarming death grip.

"Tomo-chan is right though Naki." Sakuno smiled. "It is the first time that our school has made the charts for the Rutherford Contest, not to mention defeat Hyotei Academy— who has always been the champion for the past five years."

"Who cares if they're a rich school!" Tomoka was glowing with pride. "They aren't even close to Ryoma-sama's level in tennis or Naki's level in math and physics! The Echizen bloodline is incredible!"

"S-sh Tomo-chan!" Sakuno looked around nervously. "Y-you're too loud!" By this time, several inquisitive students already had their eyes locked in their general direction.

Despite the chaos, the corners of Nabiki's lips stretched into a light smile. "Let's eat."

-080-

A soft breeze swam past them, and paused for a moment to massage their slender limbs. The sun was warm overhead, heating the air around them to a comfortable temperature. The three girls put down their bento boxes. Good weather really did make you happy sometimes.

"Hey, Naki, I've been thinking." Tomoka started, chewing on the straw of her banana milk. "What if Hyotei's really sour about losing? Don't you think they're going to do something despicable?"

Nabiki swallowed the mochi that was in her mouth. "I don't think so." She replied, choking slightly. Blasted thing probably detached an arm or leg and left it stuck in her trachea.

"Are you alright? Here, drink some water." Sakuno offered. She was still gentle and caring, but had definitely matured nicely. No longer as shy as she once was, thanks to Tomoka's coaching, the girl had learned how to assert herself when needed. Give her a few years, and she would turn into a quiet beauty worthy of the covers of local magazines.

"What do you mean by 'you don't think so'?" Tomoka air quoted after she saw that her friend had recovered and could speak again. "If those guys are as rich as people say they are, they're probably planning some kind of dirty revenge right now."

"Not everyone in Hyotei Academy is a sore loser." Sakuno interjected.

"Oh yeah? Like who?"

"Like…" Sakuno blinked, trying to recall the name of that particular individual she had in mind. "Like Atobe-san." She finally said. "He didn't do anything dirty or low when he lost the bet to Ryoma-kun and had his hair shaved off."

"W-well…maybe that's just the tennis club then!" Tomoka folded her arms over her chest. "Who knows what the rest of the school is like!" She picked up the rest of her things and stood. "All I'm saying is that Naki here should be careful. Even if Hyotei doesn't attack her, some other school might."

"Naki…do you really think they would?" Sakuno sounded worried. She glanced briefly in the direction that Tomoka had gone.

Nabiki ate another mochi, appearing rather nonchalant. "It would be an empty gesture." She said, looking at the sky.

Sakuno followed her gaze. "Yeah…I guess so."

-080-

The sound of tennis rackets invaded Atobe's ears as his limousine pulled up outside Seishun Gakuen. His lordship was well aware that he was gracing the commoner school with his royal presence and deemed it necessary that his existence be known. Several sophomores who were headed home after club activities stopped briskly in their tracks, eyes wide at what they hoped to be a dream that was real.

"It's Atobe Keigo!" one of them whispered quite loudly to the others. A fit of giggles followed as flushed faces followed the purple haired youth's every move. To an extent it satisfied Atobe. Breathing proof that his prowess was not limited to just Hyotei Academy.

"Kabaji." the King drawled out lazily. "Tell them to guide ore-sama to the tennis courts."

"Usu."

They were more than happy to be of assistance. Atobe bathed himself in their adoration. He positively loved it when he was admired by others for the achievements that he had put hard work into. He may be wealthy, but Atobe Keigo never took more credit than he deserved.

It was needless to say that all the teams were training for the Kantou tournaments again. The high school league was just as tense this year as the middle school league two years ago. However, the one responsible for gathering data was certainly not Atobe himself. That was Oshitari's job, and he had better do it well.

"It's been a long time monkey king." The unmistakable voice of Echizen Ryoma came from his left. "Did you manage to get a few more minions to join your colony?"

"Brat." Atobe replied. "Ore-sama should have known that your mouth would only get more foul as you got older, _ahn_?"

"Hn." Ryoma's smirk taunted him. "What're you here for? We don't have any peach trees around. Momoshiro-senpai's in high school now."

"Is that how you talk to a senior, brat?" Atobe's voice was not pleased. "But that doesn't matter, since ore-sama is not interested in playing a match with you today."

A flicker of surprise was extinguished in Ryoma's eyes. He waited.

"Ore-sama wants a word with this year's champion of the RuCon."

_Nabiki?_

Samurai Junior recovered quickly. "Sour because Hyotei was creamed in the face by my baby sister?"

A small crowd had gathered around them by now, and rumors were circulated faster than ever. What did the rich looking student from Hyotei want from the tennis team's captain?

On the far end of the tennis courts, anyway from the crowd, located Echizen Nabiki's hideout. Her leisurely tapping on a white laptop was interrupted unceremoniously when a first year student from the tennis club cried out her name. She looked away from the screen with a sigh of longing. Algorithms were fun, but powerful toys.

"Echizen-senpai, someone's looking for you!"

She waited for him to continue, her right hand had already strayed back to the keyboard. The girl pressed a few more keys, and kept an eye on the freshman who came closer with every passing second. Now…if she could only finish reviewing her program before he got here.

The boy stopped to catch his breath. Several thoughts raced through his head at the moment. Everyone at Seishun Gakuen knows for a fact that Echizen Ryoma was influential. He was the son of the Samurai Echizen Nanjiro, and the first middle school freshman who had been invited to compete in the US Open for goodness sake! But this person who sat before him, this…machine, he had not even seen her pick up a tennis racket. She was, undoubtedly, a whiz at all those fancy calculations that sometimes even eluded a second year university student specializing in the field. But the key thing here is that, to his knowledge, Echizen Nabiki did not play tennis. If the other student knew Echizen buchou so well, he must also be very skilled at the sport. If that was the case, then…why are they arguing over Echizen-senpai? The poor child's head was beginning to spin, but he was determined to deliver the information. "He's a Hyotei Academy student. Tall. Purple hair. Affluent. Really good-looking. And he's arguing with buchou!"

The possibilities escaped her.

_Atobe Keigo? _


	4. Sine labore nihil

She felt like Moses parting the Red Sea. The crowd, which had no doubt increased in size since a few moments earlier, separated without jagged edges as if made from liquid metal. Neither male appeared to be bothered by the numerous pairs of eyes focused on their charismatic presences. Both were unique characters who deserved and, on more than occasion, got the world's attention and praise. In hindsight, the living testimony of their mysterious charm resided in this very moment. Although they were engaged in what could at best be described as a childish brawl, even that commanded the attention of more than a dozen spectators.

Ryoma's observant peripheral vision noticed the child as she approached. He broke eye-contact with Atobe, who had also caught sight of her.

Almost characteristically, the older Echizen put a hand on his baby sister's hair. It was more of a derogatory statement about her height than a sign of affection. She glared at him. "Say hello to the monkey king Nabiki."

Nabiki's gold orbs wandered from her brother's face to Atobe's, and then back again. She looked adorable enough, with large moist eyes and a heart-shaped face. However, as a custom, appearances can and will always be deceptive. It was almost like the Victorian Era, where as a rule, everyone always managed to be somebody else.

Finally, the few seconds of uneasy silence were lifted by a lucky wind. "An…occasion to meet you Atobe-san."

Atobe practically glowed with triumph. "She has impeccable manners compared to you, brat."

"Hn."

Ryoma's snicker was, unfortunately, ignored.

The smaller Echizen stared up at the magnificent figure. According to anatomical definitions, he would have a biological advantage when competing for female members of the same species. Atobe Keigo was tall, something that women looked for in a potential partner, and certainly had a look of affluence. An indication of resources, another thing that many women found attractive.

"Is there something on ore-sama's face, _ahn_?"

She put on her best poker face, and disregarded his question. "What brings the King of Hyotei Academy to Seishun Gakuen?"

Atobe chuckled. "To grace this commoner dwelling with ore-sama's royal presence, of course!" He pointed a finger at several girls standing to his left. "Be awed at ore-sama's prowess!" But, for a moment there, the gorgeous youth knew for sure that she was analyzing his appearance. Funny. He could detect no emotional content in her eyes, just active scrutiny that was typical of most scientific processes. It intrigued him a little. She was reading him like a sheet of data, or an artifact.

"Ostentatious buffoon." Ryoma commented. He was annoyed. This pompous rich ass is delaying the tennis team's regular afterschool activities.

"Nani?" Atobe frowned. "Ore-sama won't bicker with you brat, since ore-sama is obviously the better man."

"Mada mada dane." His opponent replied as he exited the scene with visible leisure. The tennis team had already wasted enough time with this garbage.

-080-

He observed her carefully: eyes glued to the laptop screen, nimble fingers busy at work playing God to a virtual life form, and neurons firing rapidly to design her own universe. Atobe expected no praise from this girl. She was too…he paused here to search for the right word, practical. A little like a machine. He disliked people like this. They were arrogant. Sprouting from the same roots as her brother, Echizen Nabiki was going to be no exception. Atobe did not need his insight to know this much. It was quiet now, except for the occasional rattling of the fences that separated the tennis courts from the rest of the school. The last thing anyone wanted was for one of the brat's deadly Drive A's to collide with somebody's head.

"Are you bored, senpai?"

He smirked. "Ore-sama does not believe that he give you permission to drop the honorific."

"Perhaps when senpai stops referring to himself in third person I will consider it." She challenged. All the while, her hands never strayed from the keys in scandalous infidelity.

Dark eyes glistened with intrigue. "Stubborn imp."

"I don't believe my height has any logical association with this argument." Nabiki replied without looking up. But, she did not sound angry. Here was an individual who just might be able to break the borders for her expectations. She laughed. How bothersome.

Atobe's insight picked up on her change in body language relatively quickly. Her cocky laugh empowered him, it made him feel superior to the child who had dared to rebel against his power. He was the king in this exchange, and only he will win. _Perhaps Ore-sama's precious afternoon shan't be wasted after all. _

Nabiki had her own process of controls. This was too fun. The size of his ego is certainly no less than undersea volcanoes, arguably the tallest natural structures on Earth. She took a crack at that haphazardly. Just as arbitrary as experimental probability. Now, how many kilojoules of energy would that take? Yes. Nabiki giggled, how many indeed.

-080-

"I believe you had a question for me, senpai." The child reminded him. The heat of the battle had subsided, with both parties on neutral terms. Neither had gained nor lost any significant ground. In her brother's terms, it was time for game 7 to settle the score. However, they could use a break. In retrospect, the past half an hour had been a complete blur of several events. It did not occur to Nabiki that she could feel so comfortable while engaging in an intellectual debate with another individual almost twice her age. And to think, she had never met him officially before this day. Despite tooting his own horn, he had an incredible analytical way of thinking. Very agile. It made her happy to know that she was presented as an obstacle that he was determined to cross. Yes, the happiest.

Atobe was mildly impressed. She had not missed a beat. Comebacks were clever and well-planned. They made him eager to retaliate with his own arms. Although this was the furthest thing from a tennis match physically, psychologically it was not very different. Once you lose your mind, your locus of control, you don't stand a chance. The king was pleased to announce that he liked the results. They appeared desirable.

"What would that be?" He replied. She had a hold on the honorific for now, but Atobe would see to it a change.

"The reason you bothered to visit." She had returned to that blasted program again.

"Ore-sama believes that it is extremely rude to not make eye contact with the one you are speaking to, especially if you are ore-sama."

"Answer my question."

"Ore-sama does what he feels like doing. I do not need to give explanations to anyone."

She obviously considered that invalid information and chose to ignore him. Nabiki closed the portable computer after saving her work, and got up to leave. "Really? Then perhaps your use of egocentric speech indicates a lot more than just a lack of self-esteem, Atobe-_san_."

A few minutes of absolute stillness passed by uneasily before a dangerous smile formed on Atobe Keigo's lips.

"Hn, what a troublesome child."


	5. Cemel Dosce

"Echizen-senpai, why are you staring at your cellphone?"

Unsynchronized click-clacks paused in their tracks as the object in question thought about her response. Nabiki looked hard at the rectangular shape of her laptop in an attempt to gain coherence of thought. So far, it was a disastrous failure. She had not realized that the bulk part of her attention had been directed to the portable phone which rested on the slight dip in the grass beside her foot, snug as a gun.

"No reason." Nabiki finally replied without looking up, and saw an evident frown form on the regular's face in her peripheral vision.

"Senpai." He pressed closer, so near that she could feel his shadow on her back. "Ever since that incident with the Hyotei student last Tuesday, you've not been yourself. Did he threaten you because you won that physics contest?" A crevice formed between his handsome eyes, causing his glasses to slip down his nose.

That remote allusion to Atobe Keigo caused an indescribable spark to ignite inside of her. Nabiki had encountered an asymptote on the evening of their encounter. Although evidently frustrated by the older male's colossal ego, she had felt compelled by her own curiousity to construct a model just for him— an elusive being that both intrigued and displeased her to a large extent. Despite the prevalent social convention of disregarding first impressions with conscious effort, Nabiki held onto the otherwise fleeting memory with all that she had. There was something peculiar about the way he carried himself. Charisma perhaps, or some other mysterious power that possessed the capabilities of toying with one's state of mind. Whatever the case may be, Nabiki had found herself an interesting test subject. She would create the model of his existence as a project to conquer the unpredictable human "soul." It was going to be one hell of an adventure.

Unfortunately, none of the first generation functions tested was even remotely close to the anticipated outcome. The conclusion reached could not have been more obvious: she needed more data ( increased frequency of contact with the test subject). At this point, the child sighed— a soft, humming sound. How…tiresome.

"Senpai?"

"Aniki will assign you laps, Hanbei, if you don't hurry." Nabiki said at last. The tennis courts had become quiet again; a sign that indicated the first practice session was already over. She started to type again, with more focus this time. The afternoon sun showed no signs of fatigue, and its rays continued to lick her arms and hands ferociously. Only shadows and the sound of the tennis club's members hard at work kept her company.

-080-

Atobe had the vague feeling that he was putting himself in a dangerous situation. Posed at the third floor window of Hyotei Academy's main school building, the affluent youth was deep in thought. His lean body, sculpted by years of tennis, showcased its glamorous sex appeal without showing a hint of extra skin. In perfect honesty, the Atobe heir could have been a page taken straight out of _Vogue_. He rested both arms on the windowsill, and breathed in the familiar smell of his magnificent school. Not far off in the distance, Hyotei's tennis courts were also bustling with activity.

He had not gone to practice today, and had left Oshitari with the excuse of feeling unwell to take to their captain. It was useless to play when your head was not in the game, but floating among the clouds. Atobe shut the window, and returned to his seat in the classroom. The teachers were having a meeting this afternoon, so no one was around. His thoughts were unorganized blurs of activity, with their centers being a child that he had just met in person some days earlier. It did not occur to Atobe that he would enjoy their conversation together. Although she was incredibly witty, her stubbornness had also caused him great displeasure. Yet, he found himself musing over her last words like an archaeologist who had just discovered new artifacts. Egocentric speech, _ahn_? He was no child.

She had surprised him, even if only by a slight margin, and became interesting. He sometimes wanted to see her again, just to feel the thrill of another storm. Their exchanges were different from playing tennis. Her frequent references to constants, differential equations, and other mathematical concepts created another universe outside of his continuum. He would feel refreshed afterwards, as if bathed by the first desert rain after a long period of drought. She would provide him with a unique experience that only left him thirsty for more. Atobe leaned back in his chair. This was starting to become an addiction of sorts. However, another one of the King's redeeming qualities was that he never lost control and was always in full possession of his faculties.

A sudden ringing interrupted his thoughts momentarily. Atobe reached for his phone instinctively. There was a message.

_Senpai, would you accept the premise that ethics and morals are two separate human constructs?_

Short, annoying, concise, and thought-provoking. She could have at least put more words on the screen. But, didn't he enjoy the challenge of deciphering her intentions? She had objectified him, made him into a laboratory experiment. Atobe was interested. Her emotionless wall, did it have enough power to stand up against nuclear artillery? What was his approach then? Why the hell was he so captivated by her intellect? Was she really that different from the rest?

_That depends. Do you value intuition? _

-080-

Nabiki rolled over, and felt the mattress adjust to her new position. She played with a pen in her right hand, circling it again and again through the air. Ryoma was on the floor beside her bed, looking rather bored as he jotted down responses in his workbook. Light from the ceiling reflected off his hair, deepening its sea green hue— a striking contrast to the white t-shirt that he currently wore. The siblings were home by themselves tonight. Nanako had to attend an important dinner at her college and their parents were also invited as her guardians. They wouldn't be back until later, and the older of the two children had been left with dinner duty— something that the younger gladly rendered responsibility to.

"You've been texting a lot." Ryoma pointed out as her phone vibrated for the umpteenth time.

"I know." Nabiki replied, and flopped onto her back. She opened the message, and was well aware that her brother was watching her through the corners of his eyes. "Yes, aniki?"

He looked at her for a few moments, and then went back to writing. "Put it on silent. It's loud."

She giggled.

_Senpai, current data indicates that we are getting on aniki's nerves. _

Although her brother never asked who she was communicating with, Nabiki knew that he had a vague idea. The person on the other end of this invisible line was someone that he both disliked and respected. Nonetheless, the two of them had a history together. They understood each other, perhaps, beneath all the rivalry of their ways. Connected by a sport that gave meaning to the full extent of their lives.

_Ahn? He needs to play another game of tennis. _

She keyed in something quickly before plunging into her work again, an interesting manipulation of electricity and charged particles.

_Then nobody will be home to cook dinner. I need to eat. _


	6. Ne nimium

Echizen Ryoma was not an early riser. He did not believe that the early bird got the warm. Rather, the early bird was most likely the first to be captured and torn apart by hungry predators. It was weak. Nevertheless, life and its unfortunate circumstances have forced upon him responsibilities from which he had no way out. Such was his fate this beautiful Saturday morning. While Mother Nature was practically bursting at the seams with sunshine and fresh energy, the interior of the super rookie's room was as dark as a cave and its occupants slept on undisturbed. Sadly, the fragile peace was broken by the call of the house's landline. Turning over in his sleep as the shrieking phone grew progressively louder, Ryoma reached beneath his head and flipped the pillow over his head.

"Go…away." He mumbled in drowsy irritation, and was relieved when the adamant ringing finally ceased altogether. As he fell into a watery unconsciousness, Ryoma thought that he vaguely heard the sound of footsteps and the opening of a bedroom door across the hall. Then, all had succumbed to darkness just as a straying ray of light intruded the vicinity with stunning agility.

Nabiki blinked owlishly, her glowing amber eyes like large lanterns. She was still wearing her pajamas, despite it being dangerously close to noon. The small Echizen paused for a few minutes, like a bird of prey craftily planning its next move, and retreated into the hallway. She closed the door behind her, just barely reaching the doorknob with her small stature. Her brother was still sleeping, and it did not surprise her. His ability to hibernate during weekends must be a mutated version of a superpower. As she tried hard not to slip on the stairs, Nabiki could not help but giggle at the thought of Samurai Junior as the next member of the Justice League. At least it would bring Aquaman out of his social stigma.

Luck escaped her on the last step, and she fell mercilessly on her face. Nabiki felt like cursing as her nose made a painfully conspicuous impact with the cool wooden floor.

"Shit that hurt."

The child sighed as she picked herself back up again. She lifted a hand to her face, searching for any sign of injury, and found a few minor scratches. Her mother would be scandalized to hear that inelegant word escape from the eight year old's mouth. Rinko was still a big supporter of childhood being a time of innocence and transparency, where no evil dwelt.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, obaa-san." Nabiki narrated to herself, dragging the pants of her oversized pajamas across the carpet of the living room. It wasn't like she had an avid obsession with swearing, although some terms from the third year boys' more than colour vocabulary were incredibly efficient at demonstrating frustration. However, she used them sparingly. Foul language would never be 'cool'.

-080-

Against the blue sky and exceedingly white clouds, Kikumaru Eiji breathed in the fresh scent of a sunny day. He exhaled heartily, almost as if he could taste the sweet oxygen he had just taken into his lungs. Sunlight made his hair sparkle with punishing radiance as he made his way down the block to the prescribed meeting location. As the large tree came into view, the acrobatic high school sophomore was not the least bit puzzled at the sight of four other males resting in its shade. Eiji grinned to himself. Everyone else was already there.

"Good morning, nya!" He burst into the shade as if running on a nuclear motor, feeling rather ecstatic at the thought of a worry free Saturday in the company of good friends.

"What up, senpai." Momoshiro's beam was wide. His dark hair was spiker than ever and he appeared to be in a jovial mood. Said high school freshman then reached behind him, and jabbed his senior with the sharp bend of his elbow.

Inui grunted a little at the contact, but dutifully put down his notebook. He had heard the redhead's bouncing steps from miles away, and had decided to keep the numbered pages in front of his face as shield to prevent the notorious glomp that Eiji dished out at will. The data man did not dislike signs of affection, but a choking grip around his neck was a little too much to bear on every occasion. Nonetheless, he smiled. "Yo."

"Morning." Kamio, the only other redhead in the group, responded. Despite his short fuse, the youth was polite on the appropriate occasions. His only bone to pick with this group would be Momoshiro, whom Kamio had also deemed to be his rival in winning Tachibana Ann's affections.

Sanada nodded in acknowledgement at Eiji's entrance and finally stopped looking at his watch. The Emperor was a little unhappy that the new arrival was precisely three minutes and 24 seconds late, but he tried to not let that show on his face. This was only a casual hangout after all, not an afterschool practice for the regulars of any tennis team.

"Nya, Momo, where's Ochibi?" Eiji peered around them, but could not catch sight of the cocky prince with golden eyes. "Did he oversleep again?"

It was at this question that the other male startled forwards as if he had been struck by lightning. Momoshiro's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before he slapped his forehead loudly and moaned. "Crap! I forgot!"

"Idiot." Kamio snorted.

-080-

"Moshimoshi?"

"Oi, Echizen!"

Nabiki blinked hard, feeling the air inside her ear canal vibrate pugnaciously as it collided mercilessly with the eardrum. "Ouch."

The voice did a double-take. "Naki? Sorry about that. I thought you were your brother." She heard laughter in the background, and was slightly amused. Somebody had also managed to slip an insult in towards the end, directed at the caller no doubt.

"Nevermind about that, Momo-chan-senpai." Nabiki allowed herself to smile. It was difficult to reject her brother's warm-hearted best friend after all. "Aniki is still sleeping."

"Che. That lazy bastard." There was no surprise in the older male's voice, only mock contempt disguised with a thin veil of disappointment. "I'm heading out for lunch with Kamio and the senpais. Tell Echizen to drag his ass out of that house and meet up with us at the hamburger store. We're gonna hit the street courts too."

There was brief pause, and Nabiki suspected the phone of changing hands.

"Momo! You can't say bad stuff in front of Naki like that nya~! It's not good for her!'

Correction. It was swiped.

"I'm fine, Eiji-senpai." the child responded, almost humorously. "I've heard the boys in my class shoot insults much worse than that up each other's noses."

"I guess so, nya~" the redhead replied with a little moan. Nabiki pictured him with a frown, an expression that would upset his handsome features.

"I think you should come along too, Naki!" Eiji's joyous mood bounced back just as quickly. "I think it'll keep everybody manage control somehow, especially Momo— he needs it!"

It was extremely difficult to raise her voice above Momo-chan-senpai's angry protests and the other males' condescending laughter. Somehow, she managed. Without bothering to consult with her older brother, Nabiki took the matter into her own hands. The decision had been presented to her, and it was her judgement that was being sought. Her say mattered, and so she willed it into being with immense concentration.

"We'll be there."


End file.
